Love and Fashion, but mostly Love
by Angleterre97
Summary: Would you really let an outfit tear apart your love? That's would be just ridiculous. *Valentine's fic*


"Lets go out tonight." Arthur said to Francis as he flipped through the channels on the TV, not finding much on to watch.

"Really?" Francis glanced over the edge of his book. It was not often that Arthur would make first moves on these sort of things. "I thought you didn't want to do anything like that today?"

"I changed my mind," The Brit replied, finally settling on some WW2 documentary to watch. "My treat even."

Francis smiled, this was a treat indeed. "Sounds _fantastique_. Let me change before we go, ok?"

"Why?" Arthur asked as Francis stood to go upstairs. "You look fine."

"Oh please Arthur, I can't go out like this!" And by this he meant jeans and a white T-shirt, casual wear. "Come, help me pick out an outfit." The Frenchman held out his hand, which the Brit took with a sigh as he stood. Though he wished to enjoy the stuffy documentary, he followed his other half up the stairs to their bedroom.

"Bloody ridiculous French..."

/OOO/

"What do you think of this one?"

The slightly shorter man looked at the outfit the other had emerged from the closet wearing. "It looks good." He responded.

"Arthur! You've said the same thing about everything I've tried on. Can't you give me an honest opinion?"

"I am, you look good in whatever you wear."

"You're just saying that." Francis grumbled.

"Think what you want, are we ready to go now?"

"Now? Are you mad? I still have to do my hair."

"You're hair looks fine."

Arthur was starting to grow impatient, with every right. It had been an hour since they were sitting leisurely on the couch downstairs. He could have been halfway through his program by now. "You take forever to do your hair, just put it up."

"With this outfit? You really are mad!"

"My God...Francis no one is going to care what you look like, lets just go."

That was, quite obviously, the wrong thing to say. Francis stood aghast in the middle of the room.

"How can you say that?" He all but gasped out. "I try so hard to look nice for you and you want me to leave the house a slob?"

"I don't ask you to dress up, you do that for your own satisfaction and you know it, and a slob? I've never seen a more high maintenance, materialistic 'slob' in my life! Even your bloody pyjamas are name brand, don't talk to me about slobbiness."

"Oh, _excuse moi_, I forgot I was talking to the king of bad fashion sense himself."

Arthur glanced down at his own clothes, an old band T-shirt and a light pair of jeans.

"You don't like how I dress? Then fine! Go do your hair and go out on your own. I'm not gonna stick around just to be an embarrassment by your side, wouldn't want to make you look bad!"

In a storm of frustration Arthur left the bedroom, grabbing his coat as he made it downstairs. Francis heard the front door slam shut, a definitive sign that he was left in the house alone.

/OOO/

'_Mi amigo_, please slow down I can't understand a word you're saying.'

Francis sighed, trying to suppress the anger, aggravation, and utter sadness and despair welling up from inside of him.

"He just left!" He all but yelled into the receiver of his phone. "The man had the nerve to insult me and then just storm out of the house!"

'What did he say?' Antonio asked from the other end of the line. 'It's not really like Arthur to insult you for no _good _reason, what happened?'

And so Francis explained his and his lover's earlier quarrel.

"...And then he said I looked good in whatever I wear and then-"

'Fran, don't you think that sounds more like a compliment than an insult?'

"But I couldn't go out like that! My hair wasn't even done."

'It does take you a while to do your hair, you know.'

"Toni! Who's side are you on?"

"You two are a couple, Francis! There shouldn't be sides to take. I think you both overreacted about it and now you're both upset. You're both just too prideful. Arthur probably went to the bar, right? I'll text Gil and make sure he doesn't get hammered, so calm down ok? You probably hurt him as much as he hurt you."

_Hurt Arthur?_ Francis thought to himself. _How could I have hurt him? _But then again, he was only trying to do a nice thing for Francis, on Valentine's Day no less. The Frenchman sighed, why did Antonio have to be right? And why did it make him feel so utterly horrible?

"Alright, text Gil and make sure he gets home safe, thank you Tonio."

/OOO/

"Gin and Tonic please." Arthur seated himself on a bar stool at the local pub. He was agitated and depressed all at the same time. He'd messed up, but he couldn't bring himself to face that quite yet. No, this was as much Francis' fault as his own.

"All I wanted to do was take the git out to eat..."

"Then why the hell are you sitting here mumbling all by yourself, huh eyebrows?"

"God, just my luck," Arthur nearly groaned with agony "Of course it'd have to be _you_ of all people working the counter tonight."

"Perk up, I'm the best bartender in town and you know it."

"Then get me my drink, if you're so bloody amazing."

"Sorry Artie, no can do."

"What?"

The albino smirked, jumping up to sit on the bar. "You aren't getting any alcohol."

"And why the hell not?"

"Cause you can't give an honest apology when you're drunk, you idiot."

"Says the man who's never sober. And what do you mean apologize?"

"Come on, you're here on Valentine's Day mumbling to yourself, you're bitchier than normal and Fran's no where in sight. Obviously you pissed him off."

"For your information it was all that sodding frog's fault!" Arthur snapped, slamming his hands on the counter top. Gilbert grinned.

"Alright spill, what happened?"

"None of your business."

"Fine, I'll just text Toni back and ask him."

"Toni? Why the bloody hell would Toni...Oh..."

"He said Franny sounded pretty upset."

Arthur sighed, planting his head on the dingy surface of the bar top.

"All I wanted to do was take him out on his favorite bloody holiday. Then he had to go and make a big fuss. Why is he so..so..."

"High maintenance?"

"Perhaps."

"And you're just now questioning that? You guys have been together for like...forever! You should know by now how he is, stupid."

Arthur groaned. "I know that dammit."

"I mean, this can't be the first time he's called you an eye sore."

"I swear I'm going to throttle you..."

"Look, go home. Your pretty little ego got hurry but I bet Franny's did too."

"_You're_ talking to _me_ about egos? That's rich Gil, really."

"So you'll get your sorry ass out of here?"

"If only to get out of your horrid company."

/OOO/

Arthur returned home around two hours after he had stormed out in a fitful rage. He was exhausted and exasperated and had, quite honestly, no clue what to say to his lover upon entering through the front door. He scanned the living room, but Francis wasn't there. Wafting about in the air was a pungent, tantalizing aroma, which lead him through the living area and into the kitchen.

"Oh, you're back."

"I um...yeah."

Standing behind the stove was Francis, patiently combining ingredients in a pot, likely intended for some sort of stew.

"Welcome home"

Arthur noted, with a stab to his heart, that the man's eyes were rimmed red, obviously from a fair amount of crying. The fashionable outfit he had worn earlier had been replaced by sweats and a worn jumper (One Arthur recognized as his own) and his hair messily thrown up into a pony-tail.

"I figured you probably wouldn't want to go out anymore, so I just threw threw together what we had in the house."

"It's alright..." The Brit mumbled, shuffling his feet awkwardly. This was strange. Usually he would get either the silent treatment or an angry rant when such things would blow up between them. This in between territory was foreign to him. He set his keys down and shrugged his coat off, hanging it on the back of one of the dining chairs before going back to where he had stood. _How on earth was I am I going to make this right? _He moved more into the kitchen, standing behind the Frenchman and wrapped his arms around the others waist.

"I'm sorry..." Arthur mumbled into his shoulder. Francis sighed, relaxing back into his lover's hold.

"I'm sorry too..."

They stood there for a few minutes in silence, Francis occasionally stirring the contents of the pot on the stove. After some time, he spoke.

"I called Toni after you left," He began. "He told me I had overreacted."

"Gil told me the same thing, he was working tonight..."

The Frenchman nodded, breaking away to get out bowls and silverware. After dishing some out for the both of them he handed a bowl to Arthur. He accepted it, and took Francis's free hand with his own, leading them to the living room. They ate on the sofa in silence, the TV being off. So much for that stuffy documentary.

"I meant what I said earlier." Arthur finally ventured.

"Hm?"

"About your clothes, you look beautiful no matter what you wear..."

Francis was silent a moment sitting next to him, before setting his bowl down to wipe at his eyes.

"I know." He managed through shaky breath. "_Merci_"

_Shit! He's crying again. _

Arthur bit his lip, setting what was left of his own dinner aside as well. He put a hesitant hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, who in turn leaned against him, burring his face into the ratty band t-shirt he had shown such distaste for only hours ago.

"I'm sorry, I was only thinking about myself." He sobbed. "There's nothing wrong with the way you dress, really. I actually sort of like it, I really, really like it to be honest, because it's so you and...and..."

The man dissolved into a fit of tears, and Arthur without a clue what to say, just held the man closer.

"It's fine." He finally said. "No harm no foul right? Really Francis, it's no big deal..."

Francis nodded against the others shoulder.

"How about this, tomorrow I give you a couple hours in the morning to get ready and I take you out for a proper valentines day?"

"That sounds very nice." The Frenchman responded, wiping his eyes and regaining his composure.

"Maybe you could even pick me out a new outfit? You know, if you like."

Francis smiled, snuggling close to his lover. "Only if you take me to a concert on of these days so I can get one of those black t-shirts for myself. When I wear yours to bed they look better on me after all."

"I can't deny that," Arthur said with a yawn. "I can't deny that at all, happy Valentine's Day love."

/OOO/

**Love is in the air! I'm going to a con this Valentine's Day, pretty pumped. Hope you liked this little fic, I actually started this last January...Procrastination! Anyways, have a lovely day :)**


End file.
